


Nightingale Moon

by WolfAndHound_Archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First War with Voldemort, Friendship, Humor, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 21:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5942977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfAndHound_Archivist/pseuds/WolfAndHound_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Classic Canon Challenge. Wodehouse - Based on his Mr Mulliner Series</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightingale Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Lassenia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Wolf and Hound](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Wolf_and_Hound), which was created to make stories posted to the Sirius_Black_and_Remus_Lupin Yahoo! mailing list easier to find. However, even though I still love the fandom, I am no longer active in it and do not have the time to maintain it. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2015. I posted an announcement with Open Doors, but we may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Wolf and Hound collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wolfandhound/profile).

The summer was coming to a satisfying conclusion; the birds had reproduced, as had, presumably, the bees in vast quantities. The harvest had been a-cumin-in for quite a while and all was right with the world as Alphard Black ambled into the Three Broomsticks, pulled up a barstool and leant his leather-patched elbows on the bar. The very attractive but exquisitely correct Rosemerta gave him a smile and without a word, placed in front of him a tall glass of Edinburgh Spring and a large glass of gillywater. As the sun began to set, and the moon rose, silver and luminous into the welcoming purple evening, the nightingales outside the pub began their beguiling song to the last moments of the day. Alphard took a sip of his gillywater with a soft sigh.

A perspicacious pint of mead caught his eye. "You look in a reflective mood, Alphard," he opined.

Alphard examined the bar mats and gave another sigh from the heart. "'Tis the Nightingale Moon..."

A firewhiskey and soda sat up and took notice. "....Wassat? What the devil is a Nightingale Moon?"

"It's when those birds sing like this on a warm summer night. They remind me my nephew Sirius and how he found true love and had a narrow escape, and it was all thanks to the Nightingale Moon."

"Shouldn't have been out in it, dashed young fool. Doesn't he know what pubs are?" said a cherry syrup.

"He does, but if he hadn't been outside on that particular night, his life would not have changed forever," said Alphard........

My nephew Sirius was not a young man you would easily miss in any street. (continued Alphard) If you saw him sauntering through the streets of Juan-Les-Pins, a place that until recently he thought of as his home from home, you would see his handsome face and give him a hearty "Wot Ho."

If you saw him tripping the light fantastic with a diamanté debutante on one arm and a bottle of champagne on the other, you would certainly tip your topper to him, as an unmistakable Good Egg.

You knew instinctively that he was a wizard who would lend you his last broom twig, and if you had a jape that involved policeman's helmets and the removal thereof, then he was just the Beezer to call upon. He had an affinity for such performance art.

But if you were to stumble across said Sirius on a certain summer evening a few years ago, you might have noticed a certain pallor to the high cheekbones, a droop of the broad shoulders and a certain listlessness as he lay on the grass of the ancestral acres of the family's country house. He was a man who knew he should be happy with his lot in life but he was feeling as jangled as a school bell. If policemen's lots were not happy ones, then he could match that, in spades.

He had, and he was the first to realise his jolly good luck, recently been fortunate enough to have his lot in life decided for him, for a certain cousin of his, the beautiful Narcissa, had consented to be his helpmeet, his other half, his guide and his angel. The Black Clan to a wizard were callooh-ing callay-ing about the happy union, which was due to take place in three weeks.

He knew that Narcissa was beautiful, and he had himself been so enraptured by the curve of her cheek and her swanlike throat that he had found himself proposing at the beginning of July after his best friend's wedding where he had made the acquaintance of several new types of beer. He knew that she was far too good for him, as she told him that plainly herself, and he agreed with her, for it would be ungentlemanly not to. He knew that she had only his best interests in heart as she tried to "better him" but as that involved attempting to cut him off from his best friends as they were "not our sort" he found this to be a little hard on a chap.

When she said she would take him to the best parties, he had perked up considerably; Sirius was very fond of the odd party, and expert opinion of them involved a lot of champagne, some dancing (tables optional) and if there wasn't a noisy jaunt on the river afterwards with stolen items such as his favourite helmets, or perhaps traffic cones, then the evening could be considered to be a write-off. These were good parties, and Sirius had looked forward to parties called "the best".

He had been to three such parties now, and the thought of ever attending a fourth made his teeth itch. They were frequented, he had discovered, by some of the biggest Boils in Wizard-dom. Ticks and excrescences from their pointy hats to their po faces. The last party had been the worst. No music. No dancing.

No alcohol.

They had met in an art gallery of all things, white and stark with huge square pictures of what Sirius took to be Amoebas. As they stood and stared at said Amoebas, one annoying Boil droned on and on about how he was going to buy three of them for display in his personal gallery. This particular Boil was Lucius Malfoy, a Tick of the first water. He'd been at the Alma Mater with Sirius, albeit a few years ahead and they had fallen out fairly early on when Malfoy had taken exception to having had a Niffler put in his bed. Malfoy as a teenager obviously had had no sense of humour, but it at least had cured him of wearing jewellery in bed. He obviously had gained said sense of humour, thought Sirius, as he watched him collect his virulently coloured Amoebae at the end of the exhibition. It had annoyed him particularly at the time how Narcissa had looked at the Malfoy Boil with something like admiration for his in-depth knowledge of single-cell organisms.

So, Sirius knew he was a lucky chap, and he was finding it difficult to reconcile that what he first admired in Narcissa, as vim, had actually transpired into burning desire to always be doing Educational Things. And what he had liked of her decisiveness he was beginning to feel was tantamount to bullying.

If it wasn't bad enough that she had discouraged him from seeing his friends, then it was made worse when she decided for his own good that he should renounce the twin evils of tobacco and alcohol. Sirius had thought she was joking until he caught that steely gleam in her eyes that he had once described as the stars' own jealous reflection, but now knew it to be a diamond-like stubbornness.

He was therefore profoundly miserable, hence the current wilting Victorian poet impression. He was not entirely depressed, but he was far from being pressed.

There was a whistling from the other side of a bush and Sirius' best friend Prongs Potter hove into view, looking more jaunty than Sirius felt he had a right to be.

"Wot Ho Padders old chap."

Sirius fixed his friend with a baleful eye.

"What right have you to come disturbing a cove with your blasted Wot Ho's? Biff off and Wot Ho some other poor undeserving."

Prongs sat down next to his friend, brushed some imaginary lint off his new blazer, hoping Sirius might mention it. He was always sartorially perfect, but the candy-striped blazer had been crying out for him to buy it, literally begging, and Prongs was a soft hearted chap; he'd obliged. Sirius looked askance at Prongs.

"You look like a boiled sweet," he said venomously.

Prongs was utterly unabashed, his hide as thick as dragon skin. "Don't you like it? The sales wizard said it was all the thing."

"For humbugs, possibly," sneered Sirius.

"What's up old bean?" quipped Prongs. "The Fair Narcissa stood you up?"

The words, "I should be so lucky" fluttered around Sirius' mouth, but he could not impugn a lady's honour, even if said lady was a near relative of Genghis Khan and could pugn for herself pretty admirably.

"No," he said instead, through gritted teeth, "she's due any minute, so shove off, there's a good fellow, you know she gets that look on her face when she sees you."

"I don't know what she finds so offensive in one," said Prongs, pushing his round glasses up his nose and grinning, "at first I thought I must smell, as she always looks as if she's caught some awful whiff. She called me Pongo last week."

"No," said Sirius, "that's her normal expression, and it would double if it saw that excuse for a jacket."

Prongs ignored the calumny. "What's she coming over for?" He lit a cigarette and passed one to Sirius who considered the face Narcissa would make if she found him smoking and declined.

"I don't know. She didn't enlighten me." Prongs may have been the nattiest dresser in his year, but he was not, it must be said, the sharpest pencil in the pencil case. In pencil analogies he was more of a 7B than a 2H, but he was loyal, and didn't like to see his friend miserable.

"You're not planning to see her tomorrow evening though surely?"

"I wasn't planning." Sirius' voice was sepulchral. "However I don't know what she may be planning..."

"But the Lammas Ball!" Prongs voice was dangerously high. "We've never missed the Lammas Ball! You both are coming? Aren't you? Peter and Moony will be there! Oh dash it all Padders, we've all got matching cummerbunds!"

Sirius glared gloomily over the lake, remembering last years Lammas ball, the year they had come down from Hogwarts. In fact it was pointless trying to remember the ball, as if one could remember it, then as far as Sirius was concerned, one simply hadn't been there. He had woken up fully clothed on his huge double bed, in a tangle of limbs with his other chum "Moony" Lupin, and they had both been dashed embarrassed about it. What had worried them both is that they were wearing each other's clothes...

"Narcissa will never let me come," Sirius said. "It's not Educational."

Prongs sat in thought. This didn't take long, so he sat in vacuum for a lot longer. "She's not really your type Padders, if you don't mind me saying."

Sirius glared at him. "What do you mean? She's perfect for me! She's beautiful."

"Granted."

"Pure-blooded."

"Veins fairly stuffed with the navy-coloured substance."

"Aristocratic."

"Top Drawer. No doubt about it."

"Intelligent, Earnest, Serious, full of Lofty Ideals..."

"And maybe a soupçon of the ice maiden?"

"No. Not icy...regal..."

"You couldn't do better," said Prongs amiably, "but then, she couldn't do worse. There's your problem, she needs someone who shares said Lofties. You, my dear Padders, thrive on the Lowlies."

"I know it," moaned Sirius, "but what can I do about it. The family would disown me in a heartbeat if I broke off the engagement."

The Germ of a Bright Idea burrowed its way into Prong's mind, using crampons, a small ice pick and several tons of gelignite. "She needs someone who has more in common with her I should imagine."

It was a revelation to Sirius. He leapt up. "You're right! And I know just the Blister for her! Arrogant, Haughty, God's Gift..." They spoke as one wizard, beaming."Lucius Malfoy!"

They beamed at each other as if they had invented the theory of relativity. Then Sirius sank back down onto the grass, looking for all the world like Shelley upon hearing that Byron was off on a beano with Coleridge instead of him. "You don't understand Prongs," he said, "you don't know how tenacious she is. Remember Tupper?"

"My Crup? Gosh yes. Ferocious little blighter. Wouldn't let go of that postman's hand, remember? Had to cut it off and grow him a new one. We Obliviated him of course, but he wouldn't come to the house afterwards."

"Well in comparison to Narcissa, Tupper was a quitter of the first water. Once she gets her teeth into something, there is no way she will let me go. I'm doomed Prongs, Doomed."

"Si-ri-oooos!" a lightly trilling voice came floating down the lawn from the veranda.

"Cripes!" said Sirius, "Heave to, old thing, now!"

"Invisibility cloak time then?"

"Yes! Anything ! Just GO!" James vanished, leaving stripes of pink and black in front of Sirius' eyes. Narcissa came tripping down to the lakeside on elegant bronze wedges, her hair in chic controlled flicks either side of her face and her dress all floaty chiffon. Sirius steeled himself to be strong. How difficult could it be to get a girl to fall out of love with one? It seemed to be blasted easy to get them to fall IN, Out must be easier...surely? He noted with some disgust that she was clasping her latest passion, a small hairy rat-like thing which she claimed was a pedigree Yorkshire Terrier. It may have been Sirius' animagi self that the beast picked up on, but the rat-thing hated Sirius and Sirius hated the rat-thing.

"Sirius!" Narcissa declaimed, as if in front of the congregation.

"My own!" said Sirius, unconvincingly. They kissed without actually managing to touch and the rat-thing growled with a sound that sounded like water going down a plughole.

"Biffy," admonished Narcissa. "You mustn't growlie-wowlie at Daddikins." Sirius restrained himself from the urge of tearing Biffy-Wiffy's headikins off. Instead he forced a smile on his face whilst exchanging deadly insults via eye contact with the Loathsome Rodent.

Narcissa sniffed with her aristocratic nose. "Is that tobacco, my treasure?"

Sirius pretended to sniff the air frenziedly. "I think the gardener has just started a bonfire, queen of my heart's delight."

Narcissa's nose wrinkled and her eyes narrowed. "No. I don't think that's bonfire smoke, my infinite sweetness."

Sirius steeled himself. He decided to risk it. After all he had to start somewhere and traces were meant to be kicked over. He raised a metaphorical hoof and kicked gently.

"No. Light of my darkness, it's a bonfire. I'm certain of it."

The periwinkle blue eyes of Narcissa hardened, and Sirius' knees weakened slightly. It was all very well starting a cold war when there was an ocean between you, and you could bite your thumb at the opponent from over the pond, but if Brezhnev was in the same room as Narcissa, Sirius was certain that he would hesitate from saying 'ya tak ne dumaju'¹ to her.

She surprised Sirius by refusing to contradict him further. She shook her head and said, "Well it doesn't matter anyway. I don't want to have another argument." Sirius thought to himself and tried to remember when he'd dared to approach anything resembling an argument. The nearest he'd got was Arg. Possibly even Ag, if he was honest.

Then she said words that rocked Sirius to his very core, and set his inner pips trembling in fear.

"Daddy thinks that you should take me to the Lammas Ball tomorrow."

Sirius gawked. It might even be said, in some circles, that he goggled.

"Gah," was all he could say, which wasn't very informative.

"As you know," Narcissa went on, unconscious of Sirius' jaw hitting the fabulously well tended lawn, "My second cousin's uncle, twice removed's nephew's son by his second marriage, Lucius is staying with my family while the Malfoy mansion is redecorated. He was speaking to me about these 'entertainments' and how we shouldn't really mix with Muggles the way we do, but would much like to observe one close up, just once."

If Sirius had been wearing boots they would have been full of heart. He managed to stammer.

"I d...don't think your Boi..cousin would enjoy it. Perhaps there's an exhibition of paint-drying he'd prefer attending?"

Narcissa looked sharply at Sirius and Sirius' inner mouse fled back into its hole. "Sorry?"

"Nothing my own!" Sirius said, back-pedalling for England. "It's just that, well, these events are a little, er. Jolly."

"Meaning?" Her eyes were suspicious gimlets.

"Well, you know, my treasure. Music. Not our sort of music obviously," he said hurriedly, shuddering inwardly remembering the string recitals she'd dragged him to, "but noisy music and...dancing. It's also possible that this year they are selling alcohol. I know they were planning to. You wouldn't like it. Best if you don't go."

She planted her delicate size fives down and crossed her arms. "Daddy said. He thinks it will be very Educational."

Sirius gave in. He'd never managed to deflect Narcissa from anything and even if he had managed it, he didn't fancy facing his uncle Perseus. When a cove got engaged, the advice was always to "take a good look at the mother." Sirius wished that he could find out where this was written down, and add a footnote in large capitals. "Take a much harder look at the father." Narcissa was not so much a chip off the old block than an exquisitely rendered copy. Granted she didn't have black bristling eyebrows like doxies, fists like hams and a voice like an avalanche, but the dear girl had inherited his "immovable object" persona, and a whip-like temper. He acquiesced, cowardice being the safest part of valour and appeased, she floated off, with a parting rejoinder that he "wasn't going to wear anything unsuitable, was he?"

"Has she gone?" came a voice. Sirius jumped so high he nearly lost his skin.

"Prongs! You scared me half to death! I didn't know you were still mooching. It's not very "on" to voyeur on one's love scenes you know," he shouted as Prongs re-materialised, "what about if she had...you know...wanted to...?"

Prongs looked suitably revolted. "Please. I haven't had dinner. Bad show about her wanting to come tomorrow."

"And bringing that Blister with her."

Prongs looked thoughtful, a rare expression for him. "Of course it's an ideal opportunity for you."

"What?"

"You don't present yourself in the best possible light at Lammas Balls is all I'm trying to say, if you want to put the girl off, so to speak."

"What?"

"You.. and Moony."

"What?"

"Are you stuck?" Prongs sighed and took a few small pictures out of his pocket. "This was last year." Sirius looked through them, his mouth dropping open.

"Wh..." he went to say but Prongs waved his wand at him. "Silencio. Shut up and listen. You want to dissuade the fair Narcissa from the intended nuptials and the only way to do that is to get her to break off the engagement. Right?"

Sirius nodded in enforced silence.

"Well, all I'm saying is, go to the Ball, and be yourself. When she sees you with a tiara and tutu on, your trousers rolled up, kissing Moony, she'll go right off you."

Sirius was waving his arms and opening and closing is mouth frantically. Prongs frowned. "What? Oh. Sorry. Finite."

"I DO NOT KISS MOONY!"

Prongs sighed. "I was hoping to save these until after you were married and I was really really broke." He shoved two more pictures into Sirius' hands. Sirius stared at the small moving images. There, unmistakably, was Moony and himself, shirtless, and engaged in what appeared be some sort of jolly parlour game; seemingly attempting to see if the other still had their tonsils by only using their tongues. He collapsed back on the grass, looking this time like Byron had just explained the facts of life to him.

"I don't remember this. In fact, I don't remember any Lammas Balls."

"That's because Moony Obliviates you."

"WHAT?"

"Don't start that again."

"I thought it was the champagne!"

"'Fraid not, friend of my bosom."

"But why?"

"Not for me to say old bean. You'd better ask the fair Moony."

"How often..." Sirius waved the incriminating photos about and became incoherent, making choking noises.

"Last three Lammas Balls."

Sirius' world was going super-nova. "I haven't seen him for weeks, I thought he didn't even want to go this year?"

"Well, that might have something to do with the fact that it's full moon tomorrow, or possibly because of your forthcoming nuptials... Sometimes Sirius, I wonder why they call you the intelligent one. Right, I'd better Biff Off. These photos are no use to me now. You can keep them. See you tomorrow. Don't forget. Be yourself. She can't fail to go off you." He Disapparated.

The Parthian shot took about ten seconds to filter into Sirius' subconscious and he wondered not for the first time why he still considered Prongs to be his best friend. He took another look at the photographs, and Disapparated. He reappeared inside his club and strode into the bar.

Sliding onto a barstool, he ignored the nods and greetings from the sundry eggs and crumpets sprawled on various leather chairs; he wasn't in the mood for pleasantries.

The barman pushed a large pink gin across the counter. Sirius drank it in one gulp and another pink gin magically appeared. He looked up at the dispenser of alcohol.

"Why did you Obliviate me after the Lammas Balls?"

Moony blanched, and he pushed his brown hair over his forehead in characteristic nervousness.

"Prongs," was all he said.

"Yes, ruddy Prongs! Why?" He pushed the photos across the bar.

"Ah," said Moony, polishing a glass to extinction. "Ruddy Prongs indeed."

"Because of these?"

"No."

"Why then? Because you only took advantage of me when I was drunk?"

Moony glared. "If you must know, Mr God's Gift. It is because YOU only ever wanted to kiss ME when you were drunk. I wiped your memories because you never wanted to kiss me except when you were drunk, and I was happy with our friendship, didn't want to ruin it."

Sirius gaped at him. It wasn't an attractive look for him no matter how often he practised it. "That's mad."

"As you say. Loony Lupin I believe the term was." He took his apron off and disappeared into a back room, leaving Sirius practising his goldfish impressions at the bar.

Moony. He had known Moony for what seemed all of his life. On the train to Hogwarts, in their dormitory, at games, in the showers...

Sirius' whole life flashed past him and the bits without Moony in them were meaningless. Oh God. His very marrow froze in realisation. It was Moony he loved...Moony he didn't want to be without. With a single bound that would have done justice to Superman, had bar counters been tall buildings, he was over the bar and through the back room.

Moony was glaring at him. "Go away."

"One more Lammas Ball, Moony. I can't say, why, but one more. Come tomorrow, please, I'll make it all right." And not being able to bear a refusal he Disapparated without a second's hesitation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next night, Malfoy, Narcissa, Moony, Peter and Prongs were standing outside the Guildhall waiting for Sirius.

"He's late," said Malfoy unnecessarily, "and it's raining. Narcissa my dear, you look chilly." He conjured a warm cashmere stole and placed it around Narcissa's shoulders. The Ubiquitous Biffy, decorated for the occasion with a spangled hair ribbon, licked Malfoy's hand and Narcissa looked penetratingly at Malfoy as if seeing him for the first time.

"Lucky for you it's raining, " muttered Peter to Moony.

"Lucky for Narcissa," smirked Moony, "and Biffy looks like a nice appetiser."

"What Ho," called a voice and Narcissa went to speak.

"About ti..." when her voice cut off with an anguished squeak as Sirius appeared. There were frantic giggles behind her, which cut off sharply when she glared at the other three young men. Sirius stepped into the street lights looking somewhat unlike his normal dapper self. Black Tie, the invitation had said and Sirius was indeed dressed in black, and that was about all that could be said about it. PVC bondage trousers, a black cap sleeve tee-shirt with three gashes across it, showing his brown chest beneath, huge buckled motorcycle boots. The hair around his face, where it was shorter has been gelled into spikes, and the length of it was in a plait down his back. Eyeliner and a red stripe across his eyes like a mask completed the look. Japanese fangirls would have thrown themselves at his feet just to kiss his steel-capped toes.

"Merlin..." whispered Peter, "what does he look like"

"Apart from gorgeous?" breathed Moony.

"That's my boy," said Prongs. "Light Blue Touch Paper And Stand Well Back." They stood and watched as Narcissa's face went from white to red to purple and back to white.

"SIRIUS BLACK!" she bellowed, and Sirius smirked and lit a cigarette, looking like Olivia Newton-John, but with a much better arse. "How wonderful!" The smirk slid from Sirius' face like a clock in a Dali painting.

"What?" he said, repetitively.

"How smashing of you to dress like a Muggle for dear cousin Lucius!" she thrust a squeaking Biffy into Lucius' arms and rushed forward to claim her date.

The rest of the evening passed in much the same way; Sirius tried his very hardest, but it seemed that every action he tried had an equal and opposite reaction. When he puffed smoke in her face, she laughed trillingly and said to Lucius, that he "simply must try this funny Muggle habit."

When he started slugging champagne from the magnum she said that that "looked like too much fun to miss". By this time Sirius was convinced that she was under an Imperius Curse, and if he could prove that it was Prongs that had placed it, by Merlin he'd ship him off to Azkaban himself.

By the time the stage of the evening had been reached when he would normally be half-naked and dancing on the tables, he had lost the will to live, and Narcissa was seemingly more enamoured of him than ever.

Mumbling an excuse that he needed to visit the little wizard's room he sloped outside. Moony was sitting on the steps overlooking the rainy garden. Sirius sat down on the stairs with him. The nightingales were carousing in the trees and Sirius wished he had a brick he could heave at them.

"Sober are you?" said Moony. "Typical."

"It's no good Moony. " groaned Sirius. "I'm bound to the engagement. I've tried everything I can think of, she's obviously mad about me."

"Mad certainly," agreed Moony, miserably. Sirius stood up and lit a cigarette, pacing the grass in mutual misery with his friend as the rain slowed briefly; a small patch of clear sky took pity on the sorrowful sight below it and helpfully veered off its path and headed towards the moon.

As the sky cleared Narcissa and Lucius, Prongs and Peter came out into the garden. An inhuman noise that Sirius knew only too well sounded, one that always make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Moony had transformed and was on the edge of the clearing. Without a thought Sirius transformed himself and flew past the chatting group, knocking Lucius off his feet. Padfoot launched himself at the wolf and forced it back into the trees. It started to rain again and the helpful patch of sky moved smugly on, having done its job. Clouds obscured the moon once more and seeing Moony begin to transform back he trotted back out to the group to see if they were all right.

Narcissa and Lucius hadn't seen the wolf, only the big black dog; Narcissa dropped onto her knees and stroked its ears, not noticing that the dog was rolling its eyes at Peter and Prongs. She glanced around the clearing.

"What happened to Sirius? He was over there. He vanished."

Prongs saw the opportunity and took it, breaking his Scouting Oath always to be truthful. "Oh, didn't you know Narcissa? Sirius hates dogs."

Narcissa drew herself up so far, that she would have needed a bigger sketch pad. "Doesn't... like... dogs? Impossible. Everyone likes dogs." She kissed the small rat-thing in her arms, held it up to Lucius to kiss also, which he did, obsequiously.

"Not Sirius. Can't stand them. Frightened of big ones and I've seen him throw small ones out of windows. Quite small dogs. Quite high windows."

Narcissa's demeanour could have been described as poker-like but it would have been an understatement, as most pokers are rubber-like in comparison. "Lucius!" she barked. Malfoy snapped upright.

"My dear?" His voice was oily triumph.

"What is your general policy on the subject of dogs?"

Lucius lifted an aristocratic eyebrow, looked at the rat-thing and took full advantage of the situation. "My dear, I would never be without one."

Narcissa claimed his arm, "I could never love a man who didn't like dogs. Take me home. Now." And they vanished.

Sirius padded back to Moony, transformed and knelt down beside him. Moony was naked and glistening in the summer rain, his skin pale and translucent.

"Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?" Sirius whispered, feeling happier than he had for years. The nightingales were jug-jug-jugging and a fine mist of rain was falling on Moony's beautiful face.

"Not you, I hope."

"Never," said Sirius.

"Looks like Prongs did you a favour," said Moony, his lips moist and getting closer.

"Two favours," said Sirius. "and tomorrow I shall buy him the most revolting pair of humbug trousers that I can find."

~Fin~


End file.
